


Inanition

by cadkitten



Category: DECAYS (Japanese Band), Dir en grey, Sukekiyo (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Eating Disorders, Emetophobia, Help, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Urination, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 19:02:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5467604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His mind screamed at him to close off and refuse to answer, even as his heart begged with him to confide in the one person who would at the very least understand. Because he would, wouldn't he? He'd understand the desire to do something so perversely wrong to compensate. He'd understand the ache to fill the huge gaping hole in his life that nothing had ever been able to fill except this. And Gods help him, he'd understand the pressure from inside that built up until it screamed to be let out, because Kyo screamed it out every single night, didn't he? Stood up on that stage and let it out for everyone in the world to see. And that took some overwhelming amount of guts that Die could never see himself having.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inanition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dante Bosch](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Dante+Bosch).



> Commission. Requested Die fic with an eating disorder, no more than 10,000 words worth.   
> Inanition: exhaustion from lack of nourishment; emptiness.  
> SEVERE TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR EATING DISORDERS, VOMIT, AND ALCOHOL.  
> Beta Readers: sakura_ame  
> Song[s]: "We Need To Eat" by Kent / "Invisible" by Skylar Grey

"Die." Somewhere distant, very far away, the sound of Kyo's voice came to Die. Reaching up through the haze that was his mind, he grasped for wherever that voice was coming from. Sleep fogged the corners of his brain and the remnants of the alcohol in his system left him having to try harder than he usually did to find it. Finally, the dark weight lifted just enough for him to crack his eyes open and let out a disgruntled-sounding groan.

Warm fingers carded through his hair and he turned his face so that his cheek pressed against the gently exploring fingertips. A tiny whimper released itself from his lips and a second later, he could feel his stomach lurch with the impending implications of what had become his world as of late. Swallowing hard against it, he fought everything down for long enough to reach up and fight the covers off and stumble to his feet. The sick feeling of dread swam in his mind's eye as he zig-zagged past Kyo, bumping a wall and then hitting the cold bathroom floor with a thump, glad the toilet was so close to the door as saliva poured into his mouth. 

Slamming the door shut, he wrenched the toilet seat up a mere second before his stomach revolted against him. Acid burned his throat and tears prickled behind his eyelids as he squeezed his eyes tight shut against what was happening. His left hand clutched the wall for support and his right fumbled with his hair to get it back out of the way, already knowing it was too late when part of it came back cold and slimy. He gagged at the knowledge, his stomach letting him void it once again, even as his muscles trembled from the force of the way everything was coming back up. 

He reached up and slammed the handle on the toilet, flushing away what he'd done and taking a moment to wipe his hair with a piece of toilet tissue, discarding it into the toilet and slumping against the wall for the time being. As he lay there, tears slowly tracked down his cheeks, overwhelming sadness swimming through his veins. Here they were, miles away from home, on an entirely different continent and he was in the same old used-up position; mentally drained, falling when all he wanted to do was pick himself up, and treading down the fragile path toward a world he'd thought he had escaped years before. But he knew what was happening, knew it as if it were an oncoming tornado and he was standing in an open field watching it barrel right toward him. And yet... he was helpless to stop it on his own, always had been.

Wiping the tears, he slid past the door and reached to yank the shower curtain back enough to turn on the shower. The sound of water hitting porcelain brought on the overwhelming urge to urinate and he let out a quiet whine as he struggled out of his clothing, right there on the floor. What would someone say if they saw him now? If they could see the man that was helpless against his own desires writhing on the floor, smelling of vomit, nearly about to piss himself? Would they find it hilarious or sad? Would they help him or point and laugh?

A choked-off sob left him as he dragged himself up using the side of the tub to do it. Stepping into the shower, nearly falling on his ass as his feet hit the slick surface, he collided with the wall and clung to the security handle for dear life. Utterly without his permission, he lost the last shred of control over his bladder and the acrid stench of beer-laden piss filled the room, making him gag a little on the scent. Hanging his head, the tears came full-force now, plopping down to mix with the water of the shower, rinsing away down the drain as if they'd never existed to start with. And that was the point wasn't it? To do these things in the privacy of somewhere no one could see him, no one could judge him for what he'd done. No one except Kyo... and that was the result of unfortunate circumstance that the other had to come today of all days to wake him up. Though something told him he was probably already late, had slept through a phone call to wake him... or he'd lost his phone again. He never knew anymore until he was through all of this in the morning and could look to see what tragedy he'd accomplished the night before.

His hands shook as he picked up the hotel shampoo and conditioner, pouring some of each into his hand and then backing up to wet his hair. Lathering it up, he was reminded of the chiding words of his stylist, telling him he seriously needed to stop using cheap shampoo and conditioner on their tours. He could envision his face if he told the guy how he'd mixed the shampoo and conditioner and done it that way. The face in his mind morphed into one of abject horror at the idea of Die having had vomit in his hair a mere few minutes before. He let out a little huff of breath, rinsing his hair and grabbing the cheap bar of soap. He barely got his arms and torso soaped up before he was bending over, clinging to the wall as he heaved up whatever else was left in his system.

This time, it came up burning and angry from his stomach, far too quickly for him to close his eyes to avoid seeing it. A mixture of feelings came rushing into him at the sight of the black bile sliding down the drain at his feet, at the splatter of it on the porcelain. The first was a rush of horror, a tingling feeling that took up residence inside of him and brought his heart thumping heavy in his chest. Tears filling his eyes again, unbidden, and he gagged again on the mere sight of what was happening. Fear clenched his gut and he choked on the next wave of it, squeezing his eyes shut as the second feeling came into being. This one was contentment, a feeling of rightness that he would have been hard pressed to explain to anyone. Even as the vomit made its way up his throat and out of his body, his limbs shaking and his abs aching, he could feel a sense of necessity following sharp on the heels of the fear he'd felt a moment earlier. 

It was perverse, it always had been. He was terrified of vomiting, horrified to see it happen to him or anyone else, but there had always been this strange need to do it as well.; this intense desire to rid himself of everything vile and hated within his body. For years he'd stopped that part of himself, even if he did accidentally drink to excess and end up like this in the morning, he managed to turn off the second part once he'd understood it was a condition, a mental state that the needed to keep tight reign over. It hadn't been an easy road and he'd lapsed a time or two... or three. This would be three, wouldn't it? 

Tilting his face back, he let the water splash into his mouth and spit it out a few times before cupping his hands and throwing water around the walls of the tub, hoping to rinse away the evidence of what had happened before he opened his eyes again. Clearing his throat, he spit a few times and opened his eyes, grateful his tossing of water had washed away everything. He grasped the fallen soap bar and washed it off before starting to clean his body again.

Once he'd finished, he shakily left the confines of the bathroom, towel tightly wrapped around his waist, another on his hair. Stepping out, he found Kyo had spread out his morning regimen on the countertop. Lotion and razor and cream, toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, and mouthwash. On the other side of the sink, his brush and the hairdryer lay there, plugged in. He picked up his toothbrush and grudgingly began his routine, keeping his eyes on the sink in front of him and not on the mirror before him. His mind insisted he not look up, begged him to keep his eyes on the harmless white sink.

Nearly fifteen minutes later, he dragged himself into the bedroom, finding his clothing set out and a bottle of water along with two pills next to a note that simply read, "Bus." He knew what it meant, knew he was the one holding them up, and he felt a pang of guilt. One more failure, one more thing he was responsible for doing, like an endless string of pain and horror spread out before him.

Dragging his clothing on, he tossed everything into his bag and shoved his feet into his flip-flops, double-checking if he'd forgotten anything. His phone was nowhere to be seen and he winced at that, shaking his head as he exited the room, leaving the keycard on the dresser. 

Five minutes found him on the bus, curled up in one of the front seats, nursing the bottle of water Kyo had left for him, avoiding so much as looking at his bandmates and crew. He couldn't bring himself to look up, not even when Kyo settled in the seat in front of him. 

They were quiet for hours, not a single word spoken, not a moment of peace broken in their little area. The bus rolled onward and Die still nursed the ever-warming bottle of water in his hand. When he finally finished, he shifted to place the container in the bag on the floor for trash. As he sat back, Kyo finally spoke up.

"Talk to me." It wasn't a request, but yet it wasn't a demand either. Perhaps he would have called it a plea, a desperate-sounding plea. Something trembled in the vocalist's voice that had Die wanting to shrink away from him, run from the conversation no matter what he'd run smack into.

His gut twisted and a sick feeling returned, though he knew this one had nothing to do with the alcohol, that this one wouldn't result the same way as before unless he wanted it to. And he _did_ , he did want it to end that way, and that terrified him in a way he couldn't even begin to deal with right then. His mind screamed at him to close off and refuse to answer, even as his heart begged with him to confide in the one person who would at the very least understand. Because he would, wouldn't he? He'd understand the desire to do something so perversely wrong to compensate. He'd understand the ache to fill the huge gaping hole in his life that nothing had ever been able to fill except this. And Gods help him, he'd understand the pressure from inside that built up until it screamed to be let out, because Kyo screamed it out every single night, didn't he? Stood up on that stage and let it out for everyone in the world to see. And that took some overwhelming amount of guts that Die could never see himself having. 

Shrinking back into his seat, Die turned his head to gaze out the window, watching the rows and rows of corn fields passing them by. A tremor shook his torso and he lifted one hand just enough to glance down and see it was shaking as well. Two days... it had been two days, hadn't it? The last memory of something other than alcohol or water in his system so far away he couldn't even remember the taste of the food on his pallet. His stomach bubbled and he knew the acid was eating him up inside, desperate and alone in there now that he'd rid it of everything else. The bile had been a bad sign, worse than the clearish yellow of stomach acid, worse than the times he remembered seeing the half-digested disgusting mess. Next would be the agony, the pain of another sort... and then his heart would break and his spirit would follow. And one day, he'd finally find the confidence to look up into the mirror again and he'd find hollowed out cheeks, dark circles under his eyes, things he had to hide with makeup and sunglasses. Soon he'd feel the edges of his bones as he washed, find the dips of places that shouldn't have dipped inward again. And one day, he'd wake up broken and alone on the bathroom floor of someplace he didn't remember getting to, the past few days being a distant haze of nothingness and fear. And still, he'd continue, still he'd find himself like that again and again.

His throat felt like it was closing off. His hands fisted in his lap and he let out a half-choked word as he forced one to unclench, reaching out across the row for Kyo without even looking at him. "Please."

The weight of Kyo's body settling next to his own was an unexpected relief. Even as his breath hitched and his body shook, Kyo slipped a blanket over him and took his hand in his own, holding it tight between both of his. "Tell me..." this time it was gentle, asking rather than begging and Die felt the vice that had been around his throat ease up just enough to let him speak.

"It's happening again. It's been years, but it's happening to me again and I can't stop it." He bowed his head, closing his eyes as the hot tears spilled down his cheeks, plopping one by one to the blanket in front of him. "Help me save myself." It was the best words he could have spoken, the only truth to the whole battle. No one could save him from himself, but if he had the right help, the proper support... he'd have a prayer of making it out the other side, no matter what stood between him and the end.

Kyo's hands squeezed Die's own, fingers tight for the moment, unyielding, and Die clutched it like an anchor in a storm. "You only had to ask."

Die's head hit the back of the chair, his breathing easing up. "Watch my every step. Follow me to the bathrooms and don't let me drink like that again. I'll use it as an excuse for what I really want to do; a reason for why it's happening to me. You can't make me eat, but try your best... and if I fail anyway, promise me you won't blame yourself. I'm already halfway down the path..."

Kyo's hand stroked softly over the back of Die's own, his touch gentle and compassionate. "As long as you promise you're trying your best, that's all I can ever ask." There was a certain hesitation and then, "We'll get through this."

And that was all Die ever needed to hear. Not that _Die_ would get through this, but that _they_ would. Together. He could feel something opening inside of him, a tender little breath of hope stretching its fragile wings, and he eased himself against the seat, turning to watch the world go by outside of the window once again. This time there was another reflection in the glass, another face beside his own, and for what felt like the first time in months, he looked forward instead of aside, instead of down, and instead of toward the past. And Gods help him... if this was what hope felt like, then he never wanted to let it go.


End file.
